Cardboard Cups
by thelovelight
Summary: Fuji's a barista at a tiny coffee shop. Tezuka is worker at an architechtual firm. By chance or misfortune, luck or some chaotic scheme against them both, they meet. Slice of Life, Cafe Story - ZukaFuji
1. Part I

**Part One**

_"__The spring of ice is growing clearer in silent storms of entropy"_

- Wolfsheim, _Entropy_

_Timeless _was a tiny cafe hitched oddly at the corner of two busy streets. People usually overlooked it in an effort of finding their way to their destination, without taking the time to slow down, look around at their surroundings, and notice the small shop. With three stone steps leading toward its dark wooden entryway and its classy yet minimalist decor, _Timeless _faded into the background of the much busier, much brighter Tokyo lights.

The coffeeshop had been all but deserted by the inhabitants of the city. But sometimes (especially during rush hours) it stuck out like a sore thumb - in a good way. People walked by it with a curious eye and were lured in with the rich smell of coffee. If it was particularly early, the cafe would also fill the corner with the sweet scent of something baking. The delicious aroma would float down the forked path and bring potential customers in its wake.

Business was okay. It wasn't great, it wasn't ideal, but it was okay. And sometimes 'okay' was 'enough'.

The few frequent customers liked the smallness of it all, opting it over the larger, busier shops or even the cafe chains that lined the city (sometimes across the street from one another). It was quiet for the most part with the occasional outburst that was normal in life. Most of the time they were charmed by Oishi Syuuichiroh, the owner, who worked hard to keep the business afloat without sacrificing its natural appeal.

Fuji Syuusuke, on the other hand, had just thought it was funny where _Timeless_ was located. The only reason he'd walked in two years ago was due to the main entrance facing the pole that named the streets where they intersected, as if to say "walk this way or that way" without the option of walking straight into the cafe. And since he was now wiping the counter top with a wet rag at seven-thirty in the morning, he had clearly taken "option unknown" and stuck with it.

Just because the job was quiet didn't make it uninteresting. On the contrary, the frequent customers were class acts of their own right (they'd have to be if they noticed tiny coffeeshops). And Fuji always got a kick out of watching people stare up at the shop window, mouth the word _Timeless_, then look around puzzled like "Was this here all this time?" He and Eiji often made bets to see who would come in and who wouldn't. Like now.

"That one." Eiji pointed to a mother with a son in tow, eating a crepe.

"You're just saying that because you want his food."

Eiji pouted. "That's not true, I wouldn't steal food from a little kid... but you think Oishi'll let us make crepes?"

A few more people passed and the subject was dropped, even though Eiji's stomach was now growling audibly. They stared from their positions at the counter again, Eiji leaning on the outside as if he was a customer and not a paid employee and Fuji behind it, rapping his fingers on the wood.

"Ugh... they'll _never _come in." Eiji stretched like a cat and flipped around so he was looking at Fuji upside down, the back of his head on the wooden countertop. "Wanna try and make crepes now?"

"That one."

"What?" Eiji shot up to catch what Fuji saw. A small crowd had formed while waiting for the light to change. "Wait, which one?"

"The one in the suit." Fuji pointed. "That one right there."

"Fujiko... it's almost half-past eight in the morning. They're _all _in suits. Can we make crepes now?"

"The one with the glasses..."

"Eh? How do you even see that? He's facing the other way." He rolled his eyes. Fuji returned the favor when the man in target turned profile, revealing the thin frame of his -

"Glasses."

Eiji tutted and found a seat on the counter top. "He's probably heading to work. Some job where they have a coffee shop inside the building that he swears by." When Fuji didn't answer, Eiji groaned. "He's not even looking over here!"

"Care to make a wager?"

Eiji's eyes grew as large as saucers. "Oho, nuh-uh! I'm not betting against you! It's scary when you bet."

"When have I ever been scary?"

Eiji's deadpan look was enough to make Fuji withhold a chuckle.

"Scary things happen when you bet." He slowly repeated, his voice flattening to a stage whisper.

"But," Fuji pinched Eiji's nose just to hear him yip. "If you think he won't come in, you'll get 1000 yen out of it."

Eiji twisted his lips in thought before shaking on it. "Okay, you're on."

In retrospect, Eiji had known it was a bad idea to bet against Fuji. He had said it himself. Scary things just happen when 'chance' and 'Fuji' were in the same sentence. It was a law of nature: Matter could neither be created nor destroyed. E = MC^2. And Fuji was the walking definition of entropy. Order simply shattered in his presence.

So his jaw shouldn't have dropped as low as it did when the man at the light prepared to step onto the crosswalk and was splashed from head to toe by an oncoming car zooming through a puddle. Fuji, the ever helpful friend, set his jaw back in place as the bell over the door signaled a new visitor.

"Fuji..." Eiji waved at the visitor with a clenched smile. "It's not even raining..."

Fuji waved as well, seemingly unaffected. "Things happen."

The man stormed in and whipped his glasses off to clean the lenses, only to find his lavender handkerchief was soaked through. He sighed, looked at the two men by the counter, shook his head, and found a seat at a table where he proceeded to pull out his cellphone.

"You were right." Eiji huffed, patting his empty pockets. "Can I just buy you a bag of apples and we'll call it even? Fuji? ....Fuji?"

Fuji glanced at the clock before looking back at the man again. Eight-Thirty...

***

For a man who had devoted his life to structure and order, today was not going as Tezuka had planned.

The horror story had started early when his alarm hadn't gone off. Fine, he had another that rang five minutes after just in case the first didn't. But those precious five minutes had delayed everything else he usually did, from listening to the morning weather report to catching the right train on time. His life wasn't completely scheduled, far from it. Yet the value of preparedness, of not being careless...

And now a sick feeling had risen from the pit of his stomach as he got off the phone with his boss, who's anger boiled not because Tezuka would be late. But the fact that he would be late today was the issue. The architectural firm had been planning a big promotion, a merger with an elite engineering company. His boss had hoped Tezuka would be the liaison between their business and the young CEO and VP of the other. But with less than fifteen minutes to get there and a suit half stained in rain water (had it rained?), his boss' hopes were dashed and Tezuka was stuck with wet socks. He pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to tune in/tune out as much of his boss' disappointment ringing in his ears. The day had barely begun. Could it get any worse?

The sound of china tinkling on wood jogged him from his momentary woes. Someone had put a cup of simmering hot chocolate on his table. And that someone's back was to him while meeting his friend at the counter who kept saying "Fuji, what are you doing? What are you doing, Fujiko-chan? Oi! Oi! Hey!' before bouncing off and following 'Fujiko' through a door marked 'Employees Only'.

Cinnamon brown eyes flickered back to the chocolate. And then back to the door that was still swinging after the two friends had exited. And then back to the chocolate. He was met with the familiar scent of cocoa and something foreign in between. Tentatively, he wrapped his fingers around the handle of the mug and took a sip. Warmth spread through him, followed by the slow burn of the chocolate down his throat. And right at the end came the shock of something peppery against his tongue.

He narrowed his eyes and glared at the cup as if it was at fault. Was that _chili pepper _he was tasting? Another sip confirmed his initial conclusion as the pepper attacked his tongue again. Though this time he was prepared for it, the sweetness at the beginning and the bite at the end mingling into one blended sensation that made him take a third sip. And a fourth. By the time he lost count, the tiny china cup was devoid of its delicious contents and the knot that had been forming between his shoulder blades loosened underneath his white button down.

Considerably warmer and a little drier, Tezuka's eyes steadily moved back to the 'Employees Only' door. With the exception of a new clerk at the register, stillness answered.

Whoever the barista was, there was a good chance he wasn't working at the cafe for free. Tezuka pulled out his wallet, filed through a few bills, and was ready to drop them on the table when he noticed the tiny slip of paper sticking out from under the saucer. Unfolding it, the corners of his mouth twitched as he read the note written in tight, fluid characters that slanted just so to the left.

_Keep your change_

"Hn..." Tezuka placed the cup back on the saucer and stuck his money back into his wallet, not knowing the note had snuck its way there as well.

***

Carrying a clipboard, Oishi checked off the last of the morning stock. They had just got a shipment in of new china and tiny milk pots that had required his utmost attention. Beaming, he headed out of the stock room and toward the cafe to tell his workers the good news.

He didn't have to walk far. Eiji was standing on the other side of the 'Employees Only' door on tip toe. Every so often, he glimpsed into the cafe then scuttled away from the circular window.

"Eiji, why are you standing at the door? Someone could swing it open and you could get hurt and -" His maternal tirade ended when he noticed Fuji was there as well, sitting on a file cabinet. Which was equally unsafe, but something else bothered him. "...Why aren't you two outside, doing your job?"

"Shh, he might hear you!" Eiji flapped his arms behind him to shush the manager.

"Who might hear me? What's going on?"

"Doesn't matter, he's gone." A quick look just in case and Eiji got off his toes to look back at Fuji. "Think he'll come back?"

Fuji slid off the cabinet and headed back toward the cafe, a small smile toying with his mouth. "I think he's my new Eight-Thirty."

***

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

PHEW! That was the longest ZukaFuji I've ever written and it's only going to get longer. It's been years since I wrote a multichapter fic (the last one I completed I was in the 10th grade) so I hope I didn't disappoint!

_Timeless_ comes from a song of the same name sung by various people. My favorite rendition is by Zhang Li Yin ft. Xiah Junsu of DBSK. I like the song (I love it actually as well as the two Super Junior actors in it) but for two days I couldn't think of a name for the cafe. In that space of time, cleverlilwilllivejournal used the phrase _Timeless_..._Love _about thirty (nah, more like four) times around me. It stuck. It fit. It's just not a word you use in everyday conversation, so I liked it.

That being said I hope you all enjoyed it!


	2. Part II

**Part Two**

_Je peux voir la lueur  
Je peux voir la lueur en toi_  
- Kwan, Lueur

A few minutes after eight and Fuji was alone behind the register, counting the cash box and breaking rolls of coins into their proper slot. Some customers were just settling into their morning brews and taking their seats in the booths by the window.

Whatever tentative hush that had rolled over the store was broken as a blur of red barreled through the doors.

"Kya! I'm late I'm late I'm laaate!" Eiji vaulted over the counter and dodged around Fuji six times before the latter man could blink. "Did he notice yet? Did he see me? Did I make it on time? Am I late? Am I dead? Did he see me?"

"Eiji - "

"Nyaaah.... he probably hates me. Tell me the truth, Fuji, he hates me!"

"Eiji...."

Panic settling in, Eiji started pacing. "He hates me doesn't he? One of these days he's going to kill me and feed me to Kabaji!"

Kabaji was one of the storage workers who appeared, at random, to deliver goods to the cafe. Eiji had been wary of him ever since he appeared, at random, behind him and followed him around the cafe for the better part of an hour. Oishi had to explain to a frightened Eiji that his hair was very similar in style to the man Kabaji worked for. Being a visual thinker, it was only natural for Kabaji to take a sincere liking to Eiji.

"I didn't know Oishi and Kabaji were that close." He spun Eiji around, who was trying to do up his apron by himself and had only succeeded in nearly tying his fingers in knots. "I thought Kabaji only took orders from his boss."

Eiji visibly paled, thunderstruck and horrified as he slowly turned to Fuji with large eyes, his kitten mouth becoming an 'o'. "........Kabaji eats people?"

"Breathe, Eiji."

"I'm calm.... I'm calm...." He pressed his palms flat against the glass of the counter while murmuring a stream of 'Oishi, don't hate me's under his breath. Fuji chuckled to himself as he looped one string around the other. He had just finished the last bow when Oishi poked his head out of the backroom.

"Eiji?"

"Hoi!" Eiji shot into the air, knocking into the machines. Fuji looked up and caught the flying coffeepot just in time before it shattered against the linoleum.

Oishi frowned for a second but shook his head and ignored the almost accident. "Did you just get in?"

"Y-...yes..." The redhead lowered his head. "My alarm didn't go off...and there was traffic and I thought it was going to rain so I went back for an umbrella and my toothpaste had finished so I needed to buy some -"

"I don't want to hear your excuses." Oishi's kind smile broke through like sunshine. "You said you were going to be late last week. Isn't one of your sisters sleeping over?"

"Eh?" Eiji's face went as red as his hair as he stared at Fuji.

Fuji hummed Eiji's humiliation to the tune of _Flight of the Bumblebees_ while twirling the coffeepot by the handle. "I tried to tell you."

"Fuji, please..." Oishi took the pot away from him and set it delicately on the closed burner. "The last thing we need is another broken pot."

Fair enough, Fuji stopped buzzing long enough for Eiji's color to return to his face. The last pot had broken while Eiji had been trying a balancing act on a broom between two chairs while Fuji fed him dishes. (Fortunately only three dishes, a mug, and a coffeepot were sacrificed in the process. Later, Oishi had chided them in his office but ended with "We needed to get new china anyway." and "This won't be coming out of your paychecks.")

"Mmm?" The redhead leaned across the counter. "Your Eight-Thirty is back." An apt nickname Eiji had adopted due to his favorite employee's impeccable timing.

It had been a week since Eight-Thirty's first entrance into the cafe. And since then, Fuji had learned little about him save the way he liked his coffee brewed, that he worked for an architectural firm a few blocks away, and that despite his clean suits, his hair was a perpetual unruly mess. It suited him just fine.

The day after Eight-Thirty had first come in, he returned with a hesitant frown and stared at the barista for a total of fourteen seconds as if trying to pick out which question to ask first. Fuji, ever patient, had to bite his lip to stop the laughter bubbling in his chest.

Eight-Thirty had fixed his mouth into a line in thought. "Do you do coffee as well?"

"Well, this is a coffee shop. I hope so." It was worth it just to watch the other man try to stifle his blush.

He had tried again, trying to ignore the weight of Fuji's smile by pulling out his wallet and paying for a simple blend. And everyday, without fail, he would sit in the same seat he sat in before and nurse his coffee until five minutes til nine.

Fuji had turned the initial encounter over in his mind. And each time, he had chuckled until Eiji finally slapped his hand on the counter and asked him "What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing."

"It doesn't sound like nothing." Eiji had muttered under his breath, but let the topic go as another customer begged for his attention.

Today, Eight-Thirty made his way over to the counter just as Eiji managed to grab his morning pastry.

"Back again?" Fuji asked as if he didn't come at the same time every day.

The man nodded shortly, pulling out his change again. "You're the only one who does it how I like it."

Maybe it was Fuji's not-so-subtle, but still tiny smile. Maybe it was the man turning the words over in his head. Either way, Eight-Thirty turned an attractive shade of crimson that only complimented his gray suit.

Fuji turned to hide his blossoming grin, effectively facing him toward the coffee machines. The order wasn't particularly hard. Tall black coffee, no milk, with only a sprinkle of sugar and a dollop of whipped cream. A simple coffee in a cardboard cup. Fuji exchanged the coffee for dollar bills and watched him walk to his seat by the window.

"_You're the only one that does it how I like it._" Eiji echoed in his best impression of Eight-Thirty's deep voice and none-too-softly, though Fuji had to give him some credit for trying to whisper. He never was good at it. "Eh? That sounds dangerous, dangerous."

Fuji shook his head and began washing the empty coffeepot. "You're funny, Eiji."

Eiji leaned across the counter again before glancing back at his best friend, who now had a tell-tale smile creeping across his features. "You're up to something. It's all over your face, Fujiko-chan."

"Oh, me?" Fuji played innocent before snapping Eiji's rear with a towel and he yelped to heaven and back. "Then that was it."

Eiji mewled his pain away and rubbed at his sore backside.

***

There are certain places Tezuka expects to see people. He expects his boss to be in his office between the hours of 9 and 5, just like his boss expects him to be somewhere in the vicinity of the building during the same hours. It made sense; he was paid to be there. But there are other things, such as he's sure he'll see the same postman on Saturdays at eleven am. At the checkout counter at the grocery store he knows he'll see a cashier asking him if he wants paper or plastic. Anything else bends the rules of expectancy.

So after a long day at work, he nearly jumped upon seeing the barista that served his coffee every morning standing next to him on the train platform.

"You take the train." It was a statement, not a question.

Smiling eyes looked up at him through honey brown locks. "I missed the earlier one."

Tezuka nodded slowly before assuming the position one always does while waiting for a train. The barista followed suit and a gentle quiet passed over them until the screech of the train coming down the tracks caused them both to step back and away from the yellow line. The train doors hissed open and a cool woman's voice announced to Mind The Gap as they boarded.

The barista gestured to the train "After you" in a way that Tezuka wasn't sure if he was being polite or teasing him. The gentle smile on his face suggested the latter. Tezuka gave him a look that only stretched the barista's smile.

The later trains were always fuller than the earlier ones. Especially if, like this one, it was an express that hit only the major stops. And especially if it was rush hour, such as now. Finding a seat was damn near impossible but somehow the barista did, slipping under Tezuka's arm to sit right in front of where Tezuka had decided to stand.

The train suddenly jerked alive. The hand not holding his briefcase slammed against the window just before he toppled onto the barista, who looked amused but unfazed. They locked eyes for a full minute before Tezuka looked away from the calm intensity of the barista's gaze.

Helpfully, he adjusted Tezuka's glasses by sliding a single finger up the bridge of his nose. "Better?"

Tezuka's breath hitched and he swallowed, trying to find balance in the thundering train. And somehow he still managed to murmur a "Thank you."

A father and baby came on two stops later. Clutching the child to his chest, he weaved through the crowd to the best of his ability before planting himself firmly next to a pole. The clerk looked to the father and pointed down as if to say "Do you want to sit here?" After a few moments of juggling the baby in his arms while trying to hold onto the pole and balance, he gave up and graciously accepted the offer.

The barista stood just as the train jolted again. Tezuka's hand shot out to grab his forearm, but the barista was quicker and had already wrapped his fingers around another pole. Feeling the rush of blood to his face, Tezuka let go just in time to hear familiar snickering.

As more people crowded on, they too crowded each others space to find some comfort in the clutter. It was like playing a horribly intricate game of twister. Tezuka lifted an arm up to grab the bar and steady himself and in turn, the barista wrapped an arm around his waist to reach the pole behind him. Mercifully, that was the better option, seeing how the clerk's shirt seemed to rise slightly with every shift of the train.

The barista raised an eyebrow, still seemingly unaffected by their closeness. Tezuka swallowed again and politely looked away even though he could feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, the hard lines of his body defining the supple muscles of his arms, stomach, legs...

Tezuka closed his eyes. He was _not_ thinking about how the top of coffee clerk's head brushed the underside of his chin, tickling it with his down-soft hair every time he moved or how he smelled like the cafe but his hair smelled faintly of apples. He was not thinking about the subtle shifts when their legs entwined. And he was _definitely_ not thinking about the cool hazel eyes that flashed in his direction every time they were pressed together.

The torture lasted for a record-breaking fifteen minutes. And in that time, people shuffled in and out of the train, sometimes brushing against them, sometimes pushing them, but never completely jostling them out of their fixed position. Tezuka looked down once to find the clerk's eyes glance up at the same time. His lips were moving but the loudness of the train on the tracks covered his words.

In the intimacy of being closely compacted together in a human sardine box, the barista's already quiet voice had dropped to a low whisper. When Tezuka couldn't catch what he said, he dipped his head a little lower toward his lips at the same time the barista tilted his head a little higher. They traded breaths like secrets. Tezuka clutched the pole a little tighter as he listened for the clerk's words.

"I get off next."

He swallowed. "Aa."

When the barista's lips curved to a smile, Tezuka knew something had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

"I need to get to the door."

"...right." Tezuka was standing nearest to it. He sidestepped just enough for one person to squeeze between himself and the filled chairs.

"You can let go of me now."

_What?_

Tezuka snapped his head back and followed the line of his arm. Somehow, in the mix of things, Tezuka's arm hand wound its way around the barista's waist in an attempt for both of them to get comfortable (or so he kept telling himself). He unraveled his arm (which somehow felt like it had betrayed him) and nodded a silent goodbye.

"It's Fuji."

He looked up just in time to see 'Fuji' close his fingers each of his fingers in a 'goodbye' by the sliding doors.

He cleared his throat. "Tezuka."

_I know_ was written in Fuji's eyes as the train doors closed.

****

For the next few days, Eight-Thirty arrived, without fail, to the coffee shop at his designated time. Fuji would smile, prepare his coffee, and cap the lid on with a smile. The only times they touched would be when money or coffee exchanged hands.

Fuji failed to catch the earlier train only one other time. And that time he didn't let Tezuka know his arm had found its place around his waist. He simply slipped out of it when the time came to leave and waved at the door.

Two days later, Fuji had been putting the cream on Tezuka's coffee while Eiji worked the register and counted the bills.

"Keep your change?" Eiji read off a tiny piece of white paper. "I think this is yours, sir."

Fuji's eyes had flickered to Tezuka's for a brief moment before handing him his coffee, offering the tiniest of smiles.

"You're killing him." Eiji giggled as Tezuka left.

****

Fuji glanced up at the clock three minutes before eight-thirty and was surprised to see his Eight-Thirty was early. And, if Fuji was correct, walking with a purpose and his purpose looked like it was Fuji.

However, in the space of the first fifteen minutes after opening, a few of the regulars had come in as well and a short queue had formed. Eight-Thirty (or Tezuka) froze in his spot, clearly ignoring the look of amusement Fuji was sporting, and lined up with the rest of them.

Fuji chanced a glance between setting a top on a cup and handing it to the customer. He smirked. Eight-Thirty (or Tezuka) was all but the air of calm. Fuji wondered if he knew that his seemingly calm demenor rippled 'I'm stressed'.

Eiji waved at the customer leaving and whispered under his breath "I think he's on to you..."

Fuji didn't reply, but said "Have a nice day" to the next customer with a little more cheeriness than usual. And when Eight-Thirty (still Tezuka) was standing behind the next person in line, he made sure to look up at him. Eight-Thirty's eyes had narrowed as he watched Fuji serve the last order and wave the customer away.

"Back again?" Fuji piped. "Still want a tall, black coffee, no milk, sprinkle of - "

"You're doing this to me on purpose."

"Am I that obvious?"

Once again, it was worth it just to watch Tezuka's cheeks color if only for a second. At his side, Eiji's jaw dropped. Fuji helped him close it again without looking.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Conversation clip while writing this chapter:

thelovelightlivejournal: Oh Tezuka. So manly. Yet so uke sometimes.

cleverlilwilllivejournal: ........................Just the way I like him.

Hopefully I achieved just that. ^^;;


	3. Part III

**Part Three**

_You're something beautiful  
A contradiction  
I wanna play the game  
I want the friction_

- Muse, Time Is Running Out

If one traveled five streets away, one avenue east, and three buildings and a sandwich shop down, he or she would find themselves in front of a white stone building with glass doors and silver handles and a revolving door. Walking either nine flights of stairs or using the faux silver elevators would take him or her to what has been nicknamed the "The Tezuka Division". And passing both a set of cubicles and offices alike would place him or her in front of a mahogany door that read _Tezuka Kunimitsu, RA in Chief_.

The office Tezuka inhibited was small, but even in its minimalism was well-furnished. To the right of the polished cherry wood desk stood a wood bookshelf that housed work related books and binders. A few pictures lined the desk as well, one of his mother and father and a separate one of his grandfather, standing as untouchable as a mountain, two years before he had passed away. In the picture of his parents his father was happily flushed while his mother, in with her calm smiles and pleasant demeanor, had cheekily looped an arm around his waist just before the picture had been taken.

The office wasn't as grand as his boss, the president of the company, whose spacious office took half the floor upstairs (and looked more akin to a living room). But what it lacked in space it made up for in convenience. It both gave him his privacy while still locating him "in reaching distance" to his co-workers. One door went directly to the offices and work stations of his team of fellow architects, interior designers, renovators, contractors, and interns of whom he lead. The other door went to a hallway which, if he passed the glass doors at the end, was a straight shot to the elevators. It he had to leave before any of his team members did, he could without any interruption to their work and vice versa.

Save when they actually did want to interrupt.

Tezuka slowly raised his eyes from the prints on his desk to the soft knock on the door. There were only two reasons anyone would knock so hesitantly. Either Sakuno was at his door to tell him something important about the project she had been assigned or Momoshiro and Kaidoh had toppled each others work stations for the third time that week and.... Sakuno was there to tell him again.

"Tezuka-san?"

Ryuuzaki Sakuno's tiny voice barely proceeded her as she peeked through the door. She had joined a few months ago and either Tezuka's presence or her own meekness had built a wall of formalities between them, even after many of the other workers told her (with a slap on the back and lots of giggles) to just call him 'captain'. It was no more apparent when he raised an eyebrow at her and she paused a few beats before realizing she hadn't said a word.

"Ah! The president would like to see you now."

"Fine. Thank you." He nodded and she took her leave.

If Tezuka was honest with himself, he would admit he was a little worried about this meeting. His boss had been nervous by the company merger for quite some time now and Tezuka's absence from the initial meeting had only worked him up even more. Fortunately, he had managed to schedule an impromptu meet-up in which Tezuka would be properly introduced to the CEO and VP of the engineering firm. He tapped his fingers on the desk before taking a small binder (a fifth of his portfolio, the portion he was most proud of) and made his way to the elevators. Pushing the 30 button, he leaned against the silver railing as it took him to the top floor.

As the doors of the elevator whooshed open and he exited, a familiar laugh woven with his boss' voice wafted to his ears and he quite nearly turned on his heel to get back on the elevator.

"Tezuka."

Tezuka looked up to find that all of his suspicions - all purple, black, and sleekly dressed suspicions - were correct.

"Atobe."

"Oh, I see you know each other." His boss suddenly looked more cheerful than he had been in the last two weeks.

Atobe smirked. "We've met. We were once roommates together, weren't we, Tezuka?"

If by roommates he meant when they were first-years in college and Atobe hid half of Tezuka's clothes and burned his favorite lilac shirt under the pretenses of 'self-renovation', then yes, they had been roommates. "Besties", even. (An invisible line had been drawn after that by the force of Tezuka's glare behind his textbooks and Atobe's eighteen-year old "I didn't burn it. I _had_ it burned" smugness.)

It had been downhill ever since.

The president of the company ushered them into his office and while Atobe took a seat, he elected to stand. Even Tezuka had to marvel how Atobe could still sit in a chair and look like he belonged there. Like it was his.

The president made his way to his desk and clasped his fingers together. "I suppose we can skip formalities, then. Is your Vice coming?"

"Yuushi's couldn't make it to the meeting today, but he sends his regards." Atobe inclined his head to Tezuka. "You remember Yuushi, yes?"

Tezuka raised an eyebrow. Oshitari Yuushi. Atobe's on-again/off-again lover (of whom he'd found out by seeing a sock hanging on the door knob when coming back to the dorm one night?) Sure, they'd 'met' too. But it had been nearly a decade since. "I didn't know you two were still... close."

Atobe's smirk was priceless. "As close as ever."

He really didn't need to know that. He really, _really_ didn't need to know that. This whole episode was conjuring images he hadn't wanted to relive.

The president, at least, seemed pleased. "Well good!" The stress wrinkles above his brow were ironing out as the moments passed. "As you know the first tier of this merger is just a test run of sorts. Atobe-san has been gracious enough to lend us a few of his workers for a trial period." As his boss explained the changes in his job - additional team members in his division, new sites to be overseen - Atobe's smug smile twitched at the corners of his mouth and Tezuka had a bad, bad feeling of what the future was to hold.

"I know our Tezuka will be the perfect guide in taking you to our sites."

_Wait, what?_ There had to be at least a twenty he'd personally worked on over the last few months. And a hundred "_All_ of the building sites?"

Atobe's hand came up with a flourish. "I'm a business man, Tezuka. I have to see what I'm putting my money into."

"...when?"

"Starting tomorrow morning."

It took all of Tezuka's willpower not to bang his head on the wall.

***

"A portentous sign. An omen." Eiji quipped, reading the third definition of the word _prodigy_.

Boredom had sunk in at _Timeless_ at about two in the afternoon. Eiji was upside-down on the couch in the lounge, reading the dictionary of all things, while Fuji spent his time re-reading the _Le Petit Prince_, trying to push out of his mind that Tezuka hadn't shown up the the cafe in six days. And that he had noticed.

The day before had been business as usual. Tezuka had come back even though he'd stunned him only the day before. And he'd even summoned the courage to ask what Fuji liked to do on his days off.

"This is just my day job." Fuji had beamed and capped the lid on the cup. "At night, I'm an assassin."

"I don't think that's what you say to people you're trying to date." Eiji whispered rapidly into Fuji's ear as Tezuka retreated.

Fuji chuckled. "He'll be back." Because Tezuka was his Eight-Thirty. And Tezuka had even chanced a tiny smile as they exchanged money for coffee.

He had been wrong. Either Tezuka really thought he was an assassin or he was avoiding the coffee shop. Or, as Eiji had ribbed on the second day, it was a combination of both.

He highly doubted the joke had scared Tezuka away from the cafe altogether.

Day two passed and Fuji ignored Eiji pointing out that Eight-Thirty hadn't come at eight-thirty. Or nine-thirty. Or ten-thirty. Or any of the other -thirties until, at one-thirty, right after they'd returned from lunch, Fuji's patience finally had run dry and he gave Eiji _The Look_. Eiji didn't mention it since.

The days progressed in the same fashion and five days later, there was still no sign of the former frequent customer. Life went back to 'before Eight-Thirty', save both Fuji and Eiji and Oishi knew that it was still 'After Eight-Thirty'. Still, some nights Fuji would walk to the train station a little later than usual only to find it oddly stifling and empty at the same time.

"I miss Eight-Thirty."

Fuji looked up from the book, eyes glancing up from the chapter on what the little prince would do if he had quenched his lack of thirst and thus had more time in the day. He snickered. "I think his name was Tezuka."

To his credit, Eiji never asked why or how Fuji knew his name. He just flipped right-side up and gave a long sigh while putting the book on his face as the blood drained out of his head. "It's just weird not seeing him every morning, even if he didn't stay all the time to doodle or something or whatever it was he did when he drew."

"He's an architect. I think those were prints."

"Oh." Eiji sprawled on the couch. "I guess that's why he does math in the margins of his newspapers."

"I guess so." Fuji snickered again. "You're awful attentive toward someone you aren't close to, Eiji."

Eiji opened his mouth to say something but snapped it shut again. But the look on his face spoke volumes. "Fuji-"

Fuji had already averted his eyes back to his book. What would the little prince do if he had 43 extra minutes to spend?

_Moi, si j'avais cinquante-trois minutes à dépenser, je marcherais tout doucement vers une fontaine..._ and he'd savor the water too.

***

Giving Atobe and Oshitari a tour around the building sites in Tokyo had been a trip and a half. One that Tezuka did not ever want to take again.

Every morning at 7:45, the driver of Atobe's limo would be on his door and every single morning he wasn't ready for it. He would always grab his briefcase, ready to head to his job and jump six feet in the air seeing a man in a suit asking if he was ready yet.

"Your driver doesn't knock." Tezuka said, climbing into the limo.

Atobe looked disconcerted. "Well, of course not. That would disturb others in your tiny apartment building."

How considerate.

"We've been waiting for fifteen minutes." Atobe frowned. "Don't you get up earlier than this?"

He did. He got up a lot earlier than quarter til eight. He also had a routine that usually didn't involve drivers at his door or a semi-cranky businessman.

Atobe ignored Tezuka's lateness after the fourth day and offered Tezuka "Coffee?" The first two times he'd accepted it, just to get the familiar feel of caffeine in his veins. But after the third day he was starting to get sick of Atobe's rich, expensive roasted mocha blend with cream. His fingers went to his lips as he yearned for a simpler taste.

At least going to the sites was more or less normal. Most of the time it had been strictly business between the three of them, explanations of what the sites were for, who owned it, and what the aim of the finished project was. Sometimes, Atobe asked a question that Tezuka couldn't answer and he would jot it down to ask his boss later. However, any time their was a lull in the limousine, Atobe's questions were less on the site projects and delved into more personal topics.

"No, I'm not with anyone. I'm not married. I'm not dating. No, I'm not hiding anything from you." He'd said to the window for the umpteenth time over the week. It was starting to sound like a mantra that he pulled out every time he needed inner peace from Atobe's prodding questions.

Atobe smiled over his tea cup. "So no one in mind either?"

Tezuka never answered.

The grand tour had officially ended at 2:53pm six days later. He dropped Tezuka off in front of the office building with a "Always good to see you, Tezuka."

"You too." Which was true if he didn't include Atobe's obsession with his love life. He watched the limousine speed away and laughed inwardly when it hit traffic at the next light.

Tezuka checked his watch again and then looked back up at the building. Technically, he still could go in and finish any outstanding work. Not being in the office for six days meant papers were stacked neatly in in his inbox (and anything he could do by e-mail had been done at home). He was almost sure there was something that needed to be fixed waiting for him (either an easel or a broken bone, when it came to his team he was never surprised).

But something held him back from entering the building immediately. He looked down the street to nothing in particular as if expecting something to be there. Nothing came.

Shaking his head, he walked toward the elevators, greeted the guard, and entered his office.

***

What Tezuka had thought would be a few minutes in the office had become a few long, tedious hours. The merger came with the good and the bad, the bad being the stack of paperwork on the edge of his desk that over flooded his inbox and someone (he suspected Sakuno) had organized them into three, even, less-tall stacks. Blue prints needing to be approved, contractors questioning agreements and building violations, and the resumes of the new workers from Atobe's company greeted him as he sank into his chair.

Now it was nearing midnight and Tezuka was still in his office with a crick in his neck. One hand reached up to massage it out while the other held up a building agreement. The words swam in front of him. If there was ever a time he needed a cup of coffee it would be now. But, ironically, the floor's kitchen was locked as soon as the janitors finished cleaning and that was (sadly) hours ago.

He slid off his glasses and massaged his eyes with the heels of his hands. Weariness filled him and whatever second wind he had in him he would need to get home. Wordlessly, he snapped off the desk lamp, grabbed his jacket, and headed out.

Fuji was leaning against the lamp post, hands in his pockets, eyes closed. They fluttered open as Tezuka approached and something hit home in his chest.

Fuji looked up and stood straight, carefully making his way to Tezuka. His playful smile had melted into sincerity.

"Walk to the trains with me?"

_Timeless_ had come to him.

Lunchtime had meant free time for Tezuka. The sandwich shop down the street had always been an old standby if he forgot to make his own before bed. So when he had left his office, he thought that was where he was headed, he really did.

His legs, somehow, had made up his mind for him and before he knew it, he was standing outside of _Timeless_ with a semi-irked expression, wondering how he got there.

He squared his jaw. It wasn't early in the morning. He had no logical reason to go into the cafe. But standing outside of the cafe was equally illogical. He should really just leave - or walk in, as that was what his body had decided to do for him yet again.

Something sweet and warm filled his nose and he wasn't the only one who appreciated it. A found a small crowd sitting at the tables, eating pieces of flat, folded dough, savoring the taste.

Fuji and Eiji were behind the counter, as usual, with Fuji's back to him. A large jar holding a dark brown mixture sat between them. Fuji took a little of what was in the jar with a spoon and held it to Eiji.

"Eiji, say 'ah'"

"Ah..." The kitten mouth puckered and opened to welcome the creamy dark chocolate spread before plucking the spoon from Fuji's hand and licking the rest clean. It was in mid-lick that Eiji noticed Tezuka standing there.

"Tezuka?"

Fuji turned and smiled and whatever had made him feel a little warmer last night was creeping into his chest again.

"Where have you been? We're making crepes!" Eiji had said with a little too much enthusiasm, knocking Tezuka out of his reverie.

"And we'll never finish if you're eating the ingredients before we bake them." Oishi appeared from the back room. He waved a little at Tezuka before he grabbed Eiji's hand and marched him behind the 'Employee's Only' door. "Come on, you can help me mix the batter for the next batch."

Tezuka approached the counter just as Fuji spoke "Six days. How'd you live without the coffee?"

"Patience." was the only answer Tezuka could give, thinking about Atobe and his game of twenty questions based on Tezuka's life. He raised his eyebrow at the thick, gooey brown concoction in the jar.

"This is nutella. Have you ever had it before?" As Fuji spoke, he scooped a little of the spread with a finger and popped it into his mouth. "It's chocolate and hazelnut. We put it in the crepes sometimes... Want some?"

He was offering the same finger, coated with a dab of nutella again. As innocent as he looked, Fuji's eyes told more stories. He was daring him.

A beat passed between them before Fuji chuckled. "I'm kid-"

Something, the same something that had tugged in his chest when he came into the coffee shop six days late, snapped. He furtively glanced left, right, then to the 'Employee's Only' door before grabbing Fuji's wrist and pulling him close (or as close as he could with the wooden and glass counter between them).

And then he heard it; the sound of triumph and the sensation of something else: Fuji's breath hitching as Tezuka tongue glided over the swab of nutella on the tip of his finger, teeth lightly grazing it in the process. And Fuji found himself biting his lips, stopping himself before he gasped again.

It only lasted a second, but the hazy look in Fuji's eyes stayed even after he pulled away.

Tezuka licked his lips until they were devoid of the sticky chocolate. He blinked. "It's sweet."

After a moment, Fuji had broken into a shoulder shaking laugh that sounded a lot like relief and a little like something else. He capped the nutella with a smirk. "Still want your morning coffee?"

Another beat passed between them before Tezuka shook his head. "No."

Eiji appeared a few minutes later, carrying a tray of warm crepes. He set them down and munched on one only to find Tezuka no where in sight. "Tezuka left?"

"Mmm..."

"Oh, I thought he would want one." He licked his sticky fingers. "Did he order anything?"

"No..."

"...Fuji?

"Hm?"

"Your face is pink..."

* * *

A/N: They weren't apart for too long, I hope? ^^

Sorry this chapter took so long. It was all ready and prepared but I was fumbling with the next and that's what stalled me.

RA: Resident Architect. Tezuka's the head of his floor but not of the whole company, mind. Someone want to come up with a name for Atobe's engineering company?

This all being said, everyone should go and try some nutella if you haven't. It's delicious 3


	4. Interlude I

**Interlude//On Some Days**  
_[Eiji's Side]_

_We rule the world together  
With out secret codes  
And plans we can't remember _

- Snow Patrol, Favorite Friend

_Friday_

Sometimes when Eiji watches them exchange coins for coffee, he wonders.

"Here you go. Just the way you like it." Fuji added cheekily before handing him the cup.

Tezuka hesitated in saying something but shook his head. "Have a good day."

"So you'll be late tonight."

The words had stopped Tezuka dead in his tracks. He turned back to the counter. "How did you-"

"I'll be on the later train too. Later, Tezuka." He waved a stunned Tezuka out the door.

Eiji glanced over at him from the register and blinked in confusion. "Wait... really, how did you do that?"

"He doesn't like to tell me when he'll be late, even though I don't mind waiting." Fuji's eyes took a wistful look for a moment before meeting Eiji's eyes. He smiled and turned back to the next customer coming to the counter.

Eiji narrowed his eyes as he focused on Fuji's profile. Fuji still looked like Fuji. The smile painted on his lips was the same he'd seen for years as were the clear hazel brown eyes. But something was different. Something like the way he put the dishes in the dishwasher or wrote the labels for the pastries.

It took Eiji nearly four hours to figure it out, but when he did it hit like a ton of bricks.

"Fujiko-chan..." Eiji gasped and dropped a stack of cups in the process. "I think... you're smitten!"

"You're funny, Eiji" was the only response he got.

Eiji wasn't a romantic. He was far from it, actually. Realities and fantasies were two different things and he knew from experience how much of a risk romance was.

But that didn't mean he didn't want Fuji to fall in love.

* * *

_Two years ago_

"Aru...?" Eiji tilted his head at the new employee, who in turn smiled and tilted his head in the other direction. "Who are you? When did you get here?"

"Oishi hired me yesterday. I guess we're working together."

Huh. Oishi hadn't mentioned this to him before, hiring cute new baristas for his ever-failing cafe.

"Fuji."

"Eh? Oh... It's Eiji. Welcome to the – hey!" Eiji squeaked when Fuji turned his nose like a key. He rubbed with with a sour face. "What did you do that for?"

"Eiji's cute" was all Fuji had said before taking his first customer.

Fuji was less cute and more pretty, when Eiji thought about it. A lithe figure, an inch or so shorter than him, and the most intense eyes he'd ever seen crinkled in a perpetual smile. And watching him work, his fingers glided effortlessly over the machines without thought.

But it was the cute comment that later made Eiji follow him behind the 'Employee's Only' door just to watch him read. Without so much as a glance to the man perched on the couch next to him, Fuji began to read out loud all of the worlds and all of the adventures the little prince went on, even though Eiji didn't understand French. He heard _meaning_ in Fuji's voice.

Ever since, he'd fallen into step with Fuji Syuusuke.

* * *

Despite their personalities, it was Oishi that still believed in fairytales.

He bashfully told him one day that "It sounds stupid, but I wouldn't mind being someone's prince."

"Oishi." Eiji had chided, tsk tsking as they put the dishes into the dishwasher. "You're already a prince. My prince!"

"Am I really Eiji?"

"Mmhmm!"

Oishi had laughed and put his arm around him. They giggled all the way back to the cafe. It had piqued Fuji's curiosity.

"What are you laughing about?"

"Eh?" Eiji grinned from ear to ear and watched Oishi ask a pair of customers how they liked their orders as he rounded the tables. "Nothing. Nothing."

Fuji had waited for all but fifteen minutes before he whispered "It doesn't sound like _nothing_, Eiji."

* * *

_Saturday_

Eiji waited for Fuji to come in on Saturday and was sorely disappointed when Oishi told him he'd given him the day off. What was he supposed to do?

"Maybe your job, Eiji?" Oishi lightly nudged his side. "You know, what I'm paying you for? Besides he's not coming in all weekend."

"All weekend?" Eiji's face soured, then brightened. "It probably means he went on a trip, right? Do you think he went back to Chiba to visit his family?"

Oishi simply shrugged but it was clear he was thinking about it. "I doubt it, Eiji. Chiba for a day and a half?"

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense." Eiji slumped against the counter. "But this isn't just about me, Oishi. What am I gonna tell Eight-Thirty if his favorite barista isn't serving him his coffee?" Somehow, Eiji handing him a cardboard cup and telling him to have a nice day just felt off on so many levels. Besides, he couldn't make the coffee the way Tezuka liked it, apparently.

"Tezuka?" Oishi raised an eyebrow and nodded his head to the clock. Eiji looked up an balked when it read very clearly that it was already nine.

* * *

If Oishi could believe in fairytales, Eiji could still have nightmares. His nightmares weren't like the ones he had when he was a kid. Those monsters he could contend with. It was the monsters that grew and grew when 'nothings' became 'somethings' and Eiji's heart hammered so hard his chest hurt.

On those nights, Eiji would huddle under his blanket clinging to the light of his phone. He'd swear he never meant to call him, but Fuji always picked up.

They'd spend hours not saying a thing until Eiji's soft snores were all Fuji heard.

* * *

If Eiji slipped plexiglass between them, would they notice? Would they continue their day without touching as if nothing was between them? Would they still reach out for each other, curl their fingers on the 'what-if' possibility that their fingers would entwine through solid? Knock once, knock twice, and maybe break through it?

Or would they just leave fingerprints and puffs of hot air, slowly drag their fingers across the glass in one last effort before walking away?

Eiji, for Fuji's sake, didn't want the latter to happen.

* * *

_Sunday_

Sunday came and went without a hitch, save for a brief appearance of Kabaji. But even Eiji was getting used to him stalking him around the counter until Oishi reminded him that he was not his boss.

Eiji sighed and tapped his fingers on the counter to the same pattern as the rain falling outside, watching the people outside the shop look up and wonder 'Has this really been here all this time? How did I miss it?' before coming in. He pulled on his brightest smile and served them the new special blend and two crepes before sneaking one of his own.

Now that he thought about it, he and Fuji hadn't played the 'guess who's coming into the store' game for over three weeks now. Eiji didn't mind.

* * *

Sometimes, Eiji was terribly shy. And Fuji knew this. He knew.

These were the days that they'd go into the back room during their break and Eiji would bury himself into Fuji's neck until the coffee scent of _Timeless_ faded and all he could smell were apples. These were the days when Eiji's kitten mouth would turn downwards slightly until Fuji flicked his nose.

One day, he'd tell Oishi exactly how he felt. He'd barge into his office and say "Oishi! Here I am! Everything you want and need standing right in front of you! Have at it!" And he would stand on his desk and kick all the papers away, jump into Oishi's lap and kiss him in all the ways he knew how to say _I love you I love you I love you!_

But for now, Fuji's shoulder was comfortable enough. And Eiji appreciated that Fuji didn't mention the sneaky, little tears that had leaked after he'd fallen asleep.

_Monday_

Somehow, on this day, Eiji had gotten to work exactly at 7:00 for early morning setup. And it was at 7:02 that the bells on the door chimed that a visitor was there.

"Fuji!" Eiji vaulted over the counter and wrapped his arms around the smaller man, not caring that Fuji wasn't (or rather couldn't with his arms pressed against his sides) hugging him back. Either way, he could still smell the familiar scent of apples that clung to Fuji's skin just as tightly as Eiji's embrace. "I missed you! Where have you been all weekend? Did you do anything fun on your time off? Did you go to Chiba to visit your family? Did you get me a gift? Did you see Sae-"

"What _did_ I do this weekend...?" Fuji feigned ignorance and only continued when Eiji mewled. "I think I went camping with Tezuka."

"Eh? You _what?_" Eiji made the mistake of letting go of Fuji, thus allowing him to happily walk away from him and through the 'Employee's Only' door with his head thrown back in laughter.

Eiji twitched his nose as he processed this new information. Tezuka? Fuji? Camping, far away from the city lights, under a blanket of stars where no one could bother them? The images came one after the other: Tezuka, pitching a tent that constantly collapsed and Fuji trying to make a fire. Both giving up to share a sleeping bag (because Fuji somehow forgot his). The intimacy...

Did they hug? Did they kiss? Did...did Fuji...did they...

Hang on. Didn't it rain this weekend? How could they possibly -

Next thing he knew he was speeding after the sound of Fuji's snickering. "Fuji! Fujiko, wait! Wait! WAIT!"

* * *

**A/N:** Interludes will always be shorter than the chapters and take on more of an introspective look which is a fancy way of saying "Kam gets to play with words, html, and chapter formatting". Out of the three Interludes I know I have planned, this one is nicknamed the 'Love' Interlude, because I used that word so much in it. XD

And Dream Pair friendship? It's just love. ^^

I'm feeling generous. Here, have another chapter 3


	5. Part V

**Part Five**

Come and rest your bones with me  
Driving slow on Sunday morning  
And I never want to leave

- Marron 5, Sunday Morning

* * *

Tezuka left the office Friday night carrying a foul attitude like a new jacket. A few in Atobe's group were making demands he knew hadn't be authorized by himself or his boss. But with Atobe himself out of the country and Oshitari outside of Tokyo making deals in Kyoto, there was little either of them could do before Monday morning. It left him more than irked as he slammed through the glass doors and into the night.

The clouds above had clustered into one, dark ball. Faintly, the air current changed with wind carrying a strange electricity as if it were about to rain.

The pain that had been needling right between his eyebrows spiked again. Wonderful. Even the weather was against him. Just what he needed. If he couldn't finish a deal with Atobe's snide group, he certainly couldn't make a deal with the gods of rain. Clutching his briefcase a little firmer, he glared and headed toward the trains.

He stopped short when he nearly passed Fuji standing at the same lamppost he had been before. And oddly, the sight of him, with his eyes closed, calmly leaning as if the weather and the wind didn't phase him, utterly deflated almost all of Tezuka's anger. He wanted to ask what he thought he was doing there all this time, especially under something that could become a lightning rod in about fifteen minutes, but all that came out was "Fuji, I'm sorry. I- "

Fuji simply turned his head and smiled. "Come with me."

It was a statement, not a question.

* * *

They'd stepped into the ice cream shop seconds after the sky split open and yawned bullets of rain.

Fuji reached up and brushed the water caught in Tezuka's fringe, taking care to graze his forehead every so often. "I suppose there isn't a particular way you want it? It's always messy."

"It's my style."

The answer had forced Fuji to stifle his laughter.

"It's true." Tezuka quite nearly pouted. _Nearly_. He liked the way his hair was.

"It suits you. I thought that the first day you came into the cafe." Fuji hummed as he made his way to the counter.

Tezuka narrowed his eyes slightly at the words. "You've been watching me."

Fuji looked over his shoulder with a smile but didn't answer. So Tezuka crossed to the counter as well, eyes still on Fuji instead of the menu.

"Hello!" A bright, happy redhead beamed at them from behind the bar. "What will you be getting?"

Fuji leaned over the bar. "What do you recommend?"

"Well, we have our usual flavors: Chocolate, strawberry, vanilla. And a few customer favorites like choco-choco-mint, green tea, appleberry, coffee, neapolitan." The redhead pointed to each of them as he listed them off to give a clear idea of what they could order. "Or you can make your own."

"What do you think, Tezuka?" Fuji asked. Tezuka wondered if he noticed his hair was dripping slowly down his neck...

He blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"Which flavor would you like?" And as if he read his thoughts, he placed a strand of honey-colored hair behind his ear and let his finger drag down his collar. "To eat?"

When Tezuka's eyes narrowed again, Fuji innocently smiled. "Well?"

"I like chocolate ice cream." Tezuka said as promptly and succinctly as he could without sounding forced.

"I thought as much." Fuji whispered under his breath quickly enough for the barista not to notice. He caught Tezuka's eye."You seem to like chocolate a lot, Tezuka. Some might say you crave it."

The image of Fuji's nutella-swabbed finger burned in his mind. As well as the events after, tasting...

"I do."

It had been worth it to see the ever-pleasant Fuji curling his fingers on the end of the bar a little tighter.

"So." The barista's voice cut through his thoughts like a knife and they both jumped, realizing they had neglected their order. "We offer couple ice cream cups. Cute little things. Would you both be interested?"

Tezuka almost gaped when Fuji chimed a "Sure!"

"Luck~y!" The redhead ran to the back where another man with white hair that stood on end a disgruntled expression that didn't suit the ice cream world mixed ice cream. "Akutsu, did you get the order? Dan, where are you..."

So now they were eating ice cream out of medium-cups with pink and red hearts all over it because Fuji had willed it so. And Fuji giggled like he was being tickled to death every single time he glanced at it.

Fuji had also opted out of getting chocolate for something called 'apple spice' and Tezuka had to squash his surprise when Fuji asked politely for a spoonful of wasabi to be mixed into it.

"Want some?"

"No, thank you." Tezuka said, before taking a bite of his own, safe, not ridiculously spicy ice cream.

"That's a shame." Fuji popped the spoon into his mouth and sighed happily. "It's really calming."

"I bet it is."

"No, it is. It really soothes the mind, stills the nerves -"

"Burns the tongue..."

Fuji nearly choked on his ice cream trying not to laugh at that one. It made the ends of Tezuka's mouth twitch upwards.

The hour they spent in the cafe had been riddled with conversation and small talk (that wasn't really small talk). And when Tezuka thought about it, the really calming aspect of the whole thing hadn't been the ice cream, but Fuji himself. As if he was siphoning Tezuka's former anger with his smiles.

As late as it was by the time they left, the rush hour had ended leaving them with enough room to sit in their own seats, if they so wished. Tezuka just had to ignore the little smirk that played on Fuji's mouth when he pulled him toward the pole and didn't give the option to say 'no'.

"You know, I don't live far from the stop I get off at." Fuji grinned behind his hair. "I live two blocks away. White stone building. Fifth floor. Four doors down if you take the elevator. You can't miss it." He looked up and Tezuka could see mirth playing in his eyes. "I also get up early, even if I don't have work the next day."

He pulled away as his stop approached. "Think you can remember that, Tezuka?"

It was only after Fuji had left the sliding doors of the train that Tezuka realized they'd just been on their first date.

* * *

Fuji wasn't surprised at the knock on his door fifteen minutes to eleven. He chuckled and opened it to reveal a disconcerted Tezuka. Absentmindedly he brushed the rain out of his bangs again, just like before. "You're late."

Only Fuji would assume he was late to something that had not scheduled time, Tezuka thought, and he took of his wet shoes at the door. "I would have been earlier. Your lift is -"

"It's a little antique, isn't it?"

_Antique_ was the nice way of putting it. _Rickety_ would be marginally closer. _Ancient_ was on target. In fact, the entire building Fuji lived in was old and slightly decrepit and the entire third floor had a faint smell of cats no amount of lemon scrubbing could remove. It was surprising it had an elevator at all, as tiny as it was. After it stopped on the second floor it refused to move, leaving Tezuka to climb the narrow, winding stairway the last three floors. Fortunately, the "antique" appeal overshadowed the cracks and scraps the building had accumulated with its age.

"Don't worry. The elevator stalls on me too." Fuji threw over his shoulder.

Tezuka frowned. "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess. It also acts up whenever it's raining, it's so old." He assured him as he helped his out of his coat before hanging it up in the hallway closet. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes..." Tezuka hesitated, the image of Fuji's 'seasoning' on the ice cream still imprinted in his mind.

"Don't worry. I toned it down just for you." He chuckled and made his way to the kitchen. "Just sit and make yourself comfortable."

Tezuka sat on one side of the couch, trying to take up as little space as he could in Fuji's apartment. It was small, not tiny, but oddly suited Fuji's tastes in its minimal decor. But he felt oddly fidgety within the confines of Fuji's walls. _What was he doing here_?

Fuji's words on the train had haunted him for a good half of the night until it ran on repeat into his sleep. By the time he'd woken up he'd forgotten about it until he was boarding the train and getting off at Fuji's stop. Turning back had been a viable option, or at least it had been until he had missed the next train and suddenly found himself standing in the rain in front of the white stone building Fuji had described. Yet something about this apartment, the way it was structured, just set his mind at ill ease. But concentrating on Fuji's decor was safer than to speculate on what had brought him there in the first place.

A few paintings and photographs were hung up, nothing space consuming, but one black and white one caught his eye. He stood to get a closer look.

Trapped in a mahogany frame and sealed behind glass was a photograph of two boys. One stared blankly at the camera while the other had pulled his face to the side for a big, wet kiss on the cheek. He felt his lips twitch. It was not hard to guess which one was Fuji.

"The other is my brother, Yuuta." Tezuka didn't jump when Fuji had snuck up behind him. He handed him a bowl of food and chopsticks. "He was never fond of pictures."

Tezuka took a bite and was relieved to find it hadn't burned a hole in his tongue. "You were cute."

"'Were?'" Fuji repeated. His eyes didn't even try to hide the smile he was holding back. But his attention quickly shifted back to the picture, his expression changing from mirth to something Tezuka couldn't quite catch.

"...Come with me?" Fuji looked back to him, his eyes crinkling in a smile but there was unsureness in his voice for the first time Tezuka could remember. It wouldn't be the last time either, but every time made him want to crush Fuji into him until there were no spaces in between.

* * *

Fuji had lead him to the highest floor of his apartment building, floor nineteen, in which four of those floors they had to walk up. It mattered little as Tezuka was in peak shape, but he was surprised to find that Fuji had barely broken a sweat by the time they emerged at the top.

But there was nothing there save more doors that lead to, what Tezuka assumed, more apartments.

Tezuka frowned at Fuji, who snickered and patted his forearm. "Patience." He pointed up to a cord hanging from the ceiling. "The landlord lets me use the attic for whatever I want as long as I keep it clean."

Tezuka nodded, despite being even more confused than before. What would Fuji use an attic for in an apartment that was falling apart from the inside-out?

He didn't get his answer quickly, not even after Fuji jerked the cord and a ladder shot down on the vertical stopping a foot off the ground. Without a word, Fuji scampered up the ladder, leaving Tezuka behind.

"Climb up!"

Tezuka gave the ladder a testy stare. "It's wooden..."

"That it is." Fuji's face beamed from the hole in the ceiling. "You don't look like the 'out of shape' type, Tezuka."

_Because I'm not._ He spent two hours at the gym every night, thank you. And those weights were good and heavy.

His huffing didn't go unnoticed. "It's sturdy. And if you can pull yourself up, you're golden. I promise."

In the interim between Fuji speaking and Tezuka climbing up the ladder, Tezuka tried to convince himself that Fuij's promise hadn't convinced him more than the fact that the ladder was sturdy. Fact always stood strong against feeling. If the ladder was unsafe, it was unsafe.

He knew it was a lie as soon as it creaked under his weight and he climbed faster up toward Fuji's smiling eyes and not down on the ground where his safety was assured.

Tezuka sternly looked down at the hole in the floor. "We're getting you a metal ladder."

"'We'?"

Tezuka froze and swallowed. But Fuji didn't seem interested in the matter other than to point it out.

"Okay, Tezuka." He gestured to the small room. "This is my studio."

"It's..." It was half studio, half storage space Tezuka decided as he took a look around the attic. On one wall stood a large shelf that placed spare sheets and linens and anything else that would probably clutter the tininess of Fuji's actual apartment, much like an actual attic. And the floor wasn't wooden but hard and (thankfully) sturdy.

But there were parts of it that weren't so typical and leaned more to the studio side. A long, white string lined one side of the room to the other where photos hung by laundry clips. There were b&w as well as color and other unique blends and shading that were, Tezuka decided, techniques in photography he wasn't knowledgeable of. Propped up against the wall and behind where the section of the string bowed the most stood a large, wooden table that had chipped at the edges and was starting to splinter. All the photographer's tools such as an adjustable magnifying glass, scissors, clip on table lamps, and the rolls that twisted the negatives out of its tight coils stood at the back. Photos that Fuji may have been studying scattered the front.

Other things were a little more scattered. A(nother) ladder, that reached as high as the linen shelf stood open next to it. (Tezuka assumed that was how he got the string up in the first place). There were also black and silver umbrellas in the corner that had never seen a raindrop. Three cameras stood on their tripods, all of different eras and lens sizes. A few pictures had made it to the windows, dotting the rain-dulled light streaming in.

But what was most impressive were the amount of projects in the cramped vicinity. The photo albums of finished projects that had their own shelf with the binders were numbered in roman numerals from I-IX were only one aspect. There were also wires, boxes, newspaper projects. One project had taken the portrait prints found on T-shirts and told an entire story via mural. Clippings of phrases commonly said re-rendered and re-organized while being woven through photographs in careful precision so they chained together one into the other. Things that Tezuka had normally associated as junk had become their own masterpieces under Fuji's attentive fingers.

Tezuka turned back to Fuji, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Fuji smiled and curled an arm around his. "Remember when you asked me what I do on my spare time?"

"I didn't think-"

"That I was an assassin?" Fuji laughed. "I'd hoped not."

Tezuka nodded slowly. "You're a photographer."

"Mixed media artist would be the correct term." He chimed. "But photographer works fine for me."

Tezuka found himself nodding again as he took another look around the room. It was all so carefully organized in its chaos he hadn't known where to begin. It wasn't like his apartment, that was selected and arranged in a "normal" fashion. Chair, shelf, couch, television. Minimal, yes, but normal.

If he took his studio apart piece by piece, it all seemed so utterly _Fuji_. He inhaled and was pleased to find his nerves had calmed.

Fuji was looking up at him after the moment passed. He hesitated but wrapped an arm around his shoulders until Fuji was smiling into his chest.

"Is there something you want me to see?"

"No. Not particularly. But you're free to look around more if you want. Or we can leave."

He looked down at Fuji again, who raised his eyebrows playfully before leaning his head against Tezuka's chest. "Your choice."

Something clutched Tezuka's chest like a vice and he realized it was the weight of the decision. He felt like he was intruding on something precious. Or being welcomed into it with open arms. Or given a gift he wasn't sure what to do with but he knew was important.

A birdcage hanging in the corner caught his eye. Gently, he unwrapped himself from around Fuji and gravitated toward it. Photographs tinted seal and white with white borders were clipped on the outside with laundry clips. They were of a place Tezuka hadn't visited before but clearly held some importance to Fuji. The unoccupied swing swayed back and forth without a passenger.

"This is my birdcage project." Fuji brushed his fingers against it so it twirled in midair before uncoiling and spinning in the opposite direction. "This is Chiba's beach. And this is the house in Chiba I grew up in..." Fuji recounted no stories as he went through the pictures, all in Chiba, but there was a sense of something unsaid as he did so. Tezuka simply nodded until all the photographs were mentioned. And gave in to the urge to pull Fuji to him again.

His lips brushed Fuji's ear as he leaned down and whispered. "Why are you showing this to me?"

Fuji gave him a good, long look before the ends of his mouth quirked up. "You seemed like you needed to see it."

That was a half-truth. Seeing Tezuka barging out of his office like a storm cloud without the bolts of lightning on Friday had brought on the idea of bringing him outside of his 'angry zone'. Take him out of the familiar and into the different. The ice cream shop had been for fun but... what was more different and out of the norm than Fuji's home?

But if he thought about it, really thought about it, he would find that he didn't have a true answer to Tezuka's question. And that was okay.

He reached over and squeezed Tezuka's hand before climbing down the ladder. Sometimes it was nicer, sweeter even, not to know the next page in a story.

* * *

No sooner had they reached Fuji's apartment, Fuji was at the door again and rifling through the hallway closet.

Tezuka frowned. "Where are you going?"

"Shopping." Fuji zipped up the front of his jacket and handed him his. "Since you're coming back, we need to get a metal ladder, right? Put it on, it's probably still raining."

Tezuka decided to ignore that and put on his coat without a fuss.

* * *

Fuji had been right. The rain had picked up and now the wind was following. Sheets of water peeled off the windows of the train and thickly splashed onto the tracks beneath it. Worse still, it was cold and biting.

Fuji curled closer as they stood in the empty car, huddled against each other. When he looked down, he saw that Fuji's eyes had closed in an un-smiling expression. Like he was asleep.

Getting a ladder was also much harder than Tezuka had originally thought. Fuji, having taken a liking to the two other ladders at his disposal, was rather picky when it came to getting a third.

"I don't want it to ruin the feng shui of what I have now." Fuji joked as they walked through the hardware store.

They decided on a metal one with a sliding component that could be easily installed where the last one was. After getting the instructions on how to install it, they made their way back to Fuji's apartment and started unhinging the old one from the attic. Power tools came easy for Fuji probably because, as Tezuka suspected, he used it in his art. As for himself, he wasn't a constructor but he would be a fool to be an architect and not know how to hold a screwdriver.

The hardest part had been finding the exact groove in the trap door the ladder would fall from. For a while it seemed the width of the ladder was too wide until, after two hours and an ingenious idea from Fuji to level it differently, it folded against the door without hassle.

They worked diligently to the tune of the rain pattering heavily against the windows. After a while, the low sunlight dipped behind the storm clouds for the night and Fuji took a moment to turn on the back lights. Few words passed between them save "Pass me this" or "I think you did that wrong, Tezuka. Let me..." until the metal ladder was properly fitted.

Fuji stepped back and admired their handywork. "Wanna try it out?"

A quick run up and down the ladder and Tezuka was satisfied it wasn't going to topple over. He made his way back up and sat on the ground next to Fuji who was putting the tools back in the tool chest.

Finishing up, he leaned against Tezuka's shoulder. "I think we do good work together."

"Mm..." He agreed. The wind outside howled against the window and all he could notice was how Fuji's hair tickled his ear. And if he tilted his head to the side...

Thunder clapped outside, breaking them apart momentarily. Fuji snickered and stood up, making his way to the window. "It's really coming down out there."

"I should go then." Tezuka stood as well before crossing to the ladder.

He made the mistake of looking back.

In the low light, shadows played against Fuji's features, only enhancing that intense stare that seemed to pierce right through him.

Fuji bit his lips. "Want to spend the night with me, Tezuka?"

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._

Tezuka's arm peeked out from the covers, fingers twitching in midair before facing the source of the beeping: His alarm clock. Fishing around for the annoying machine, his hand knocked into the dresser once, twice, before – WHAM - slapping the snooze button palm flat. The alarm clock fell silent as his arm sank back under the sheets and back to warmth sublime.

Normally he was more cordial with his alarm clock. In fact, he even had a whole routine that involved waking up just right. But today was different. All he wanted to do was sleep in and forget the meeting he had promised he'd be at. Today all he wanted to do was take a day of rest. He groaned and rolled over, wrapping his arms around his pillow. Or what he thought was his pillow. This was fleshy and warm and (when he prodded it blindly with with a finger) had a tight stomach that pulled when his hand slipped steadily lower and gasped when-

Tezuka's eyes popped open to see a blurry person laying beside him. He squinted instead of reaching back for his glasses before swallowing. "Fuji?"

Fuji smirked from behind strands of honey hair. "Morning."

He jerked his hand back from its journey south from Fuji's stomach (ignoring the chuckles from Fuji's mouth). A quick not-so-subtle check under the covers assured him that they both still had their clothes on. But _why_ did they both still have their clothes on, he wondered, as Fuji sat up and stretched languidly next to him, muscles pulling long and taunt in each direction. He tried to get his bearings on exactly why that did not happen.

The first surprise was that he wasn't home. He was still in Fuji's studio. The bed he had imagined was just their own jackets and Fuji's spare sheets covering them. And that the 'alarm clock' had only been his cellphone alarm beeping a missed call. The best surprise still was that it was Sunday, not Monday. No meeting to be had.

No, he wasn't home. He had been _dreaming_ he was home. In his bed. With his Fuji.

He swallowed and turned his head back to Fuji, whose silhouette had caught in the morning sunlight streaming through the window. He tried not to focus on Fuji's sinewy body but all that came out was "Is it necessary for you to stretch that much?"

Fuji looked over his shoulder at him while twisting his hand to touch the top of his back. He smiled. "It's always good to stay limber. Don't you agree, Tezuka?"

If he didn't agree, Fuji's profile could certainly convince him otherwise. He closed his eyes and sank back into the covers. "Whatever you need to do."

"Good." He felt Fuji slip back down next to him. "Because I like to be flexible for anything."

Tezuka cleared his throat and counted backwards to ten, recalling exactly what had happened the night before.

They hadn't touched in any way they hadn't touched before. Fuji had laid out his extra linens and Tezuka helped stretch them out evenly across the floor. And after Fuji turned off the light, they talked in the dark about nothing in particular. In fact, he still didn't know what had convinced him to stay, but when Fuji's arms had curled around his waist that night, breath puffing against his back, he squashed the part of his mind that questioned it in the first place.

When Fuji had finished getting all the kinks out of his back (and Tezuka convinced himself that he wasn't watching, just merely observing) they climbed down the ladder together and pushed the trap door back until it was secured against the ceiling once more.

Tezuka had been shocked to find exactly how late they had slept. "It's 3:30."

"I guess we slept the day away." Fuji chirped as if he hadn't monopolized all of Tezuka's time that weekend. "I'll walk you to the door."

As Tezuka prepared himself for the rain outside, he came to three conclusions about Fuji: Fuji liked ridiculously spicy ice cream. Fuji liked photography and art. And Tezuka realized that _Fuji liked him too._

It wouldn't be prudent to say the feeling was mutual.

* * *

**A/N:** Camping = Slumber party in the attic.

This chapter was never supposed to be so long. It got long because it was right after the interlude and we needed to do some ZukaFuji backtracking~ (Good for you guys, bad for me who kept headdesking.) I even had to cut out a scene (don't worry, it should appear later) just because this chapter was packed so much with stuff.

I hope you guys enjoy it though. But never expect a 4000+ word chapter again in this fic. ... I think.


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